


Stranger

by obsolete_theory (ersatzbeta)



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-01
Updated: 2010-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ersatzbeta/pseuds/obsolete_theory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gojyo finds a stranger at the side of the road. Written for the October prompt on LJ's saiyuki_wk_au comm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Let it be said that I am a cringing wuss when it comes to scary things. I can't watch scary movies. If I read a scary story or scary book, I have to do it in the middle of the day and I still jump at shadows for days or weeks afterward. I'm really pleased to have written this story at all, and to have finished it without having it turn into a 20k-word monster feels absolutely monumental.
> 
> This story features a vaguely undead Hakkai. You can decide for yourself what kind of horror he is. ^_^ (I never did make up my mind about him...) It also probably lacks editing: I consider it a rough draft, but I have no real plans to edit it any time soon.
> 
> The title is a tentative, working title (I might refer to it as the "vaguely undead Hakkai" story, but I don't think that's really a good title. XD)

It was quite dark out, and a bare sliver of moon was only enough to allow Gojyo to pick out the outlines of things; tree trunks, mile markers, the relative flatness of the road beneath his feet. Ordinarily, the walk home wouldn't have bothered him. It was a short trip on the main road, then onto his path, through his woods, to his house. There were never any other people on the road at this time of night. It was late enough that anyone with a decent daytime living would be sound asleep in bed, and none of the other people who frequented the bar and played poker with him lived outside the main part of the village. The air beneath the trees was cold and damp, and only a few brave insects cried into the darkness.

Still, Gojyo was warm from the exercise and the beers he'd had, and the jingle of money in his pocket put a spring into his step. He dismissed the night as being like any other. He continued to walk down the road.

When Gojyo saw the man, sitting on the mile marker at the side of the road, he decided to just kept on walking, no need to stop and chat, not so late at night with a man he'd never seen before in his life. Gojyo hunched his shoulders against the chill air and wished his jacket was a little warmer.

He drew even with the stone. He tried to continue forward, but his feet seemed frozen in place. The man on the marker unfolded from his seat and came toward him.

"Excuse me," the man said. "But could you tell me the day?"

The stranger's face was chalky-white with feverish green eyes. He looked unwell. He gave Gojyo the creeps.

"The day?" said Gojyo. "It's kinda…night."

"The date, then," said the stranger.

"Oh. Uh. It's the sixth of May. And a good evening to you," he said.

Gojyo's feet were finally working again, and he hurried to put the mile marker--and the stranger--behind him. Hearing the stranger fall into step behind him, he was more than a little unhappy. Just what he needed, weirdos following him home from the bar. Gojyo watched the treeline warily. It was awfully dark tonight, for some reason.

"Forgive me," said the man. "My name is Hakkai. Cho Hakkai."

The silence didn't so much hang as drop into the darkness between them. Gojyo could feel this Cho guy waiting for a response. He sighed and tried to shake off the strange jitters that had overtaken him.

"Gojyo," said Gojyo. "Sha Gojyo."

"Please to make your acquaintance," said Hakkai.

He really did sound pleased, too, which was no odder than the rest of it; his sudden appearance and subsequent tailing of Gojyo.

"Yeah, whatever," said Gojyo. "Now if you don't mind…"

"Hmm?" said Hakkai.

"I'm on my way home," said Gojyo. "And I'm not in the mood for company."

"You live all the way out here?" said Hakkai. "It must be lonely."

"Like I said," said Gojyo. "I'm not looking for company."

"There's an inn about three miles down the road, back the way I came," he said.

He hitched a thumb over his shoulder, only at that moment unsure whether or not Hakkai could see the gesture.

"So anyway, good night," said Gojyo.

He hoped the strange man would take the hint. Gojyo concentrated on his footing again, just in time to trip over a tree root and go crashing down at the overgrown side of the road. The ground moved rapidly toward his face and he knew, just knew, that he was going to break something. Again. Gojyo swore under his breath. He must have been drunker than he'd realized.

With a wrench, Gojyo was jerked upright again, before he hit the ground. His shoulder throbbed in protest, and his hand felt weirdly numb. He looked at himself and turned half-around. Hakkai had him by one arm, one hand laid on his elbow, the other hand's long fingers wrapped around Gojyo's wrist.

"Thanks," said Gojyo. "Man, your hand's like ice!"

"My apologies," said Hakkai.

He immediately released Gojyo's hand. Gojyo rotated his shoulder slowly and brushed off a few brambles that had, somehow, gotten stuck to his jacket in the confusion.

"No, really, thanks," said Gojyo. "Look, you want a cup of coffee or something to warm you up?"

Gojyo then kicked himself. He hadn't meant to invite the guy over, he really hadn't. It had just kind of slipped out. As he continued to dust himself off, he prayed the man wouldn't take him up on it.

"I'm afraid I don't care for coffee," said Hakkai. "But perhaps I should…walk you home, just in case?"

Gojyo found himself nodding in agreement despite his reservations. After all, what harm could it do? If the guy wanted to, he could have secretly followed Gojyo but, instead, he'd been open about it, and his concern seemed genuine enough. Gojyo wanted to laugh: it had been years since anyone had cared whether or not he made it home okay. And now, a total stranger…

"Well come on, then," said Gojyo. "We've got a ways to go before we--I--get home."

This time, Hakkai walked more or less at his side. Gojyo found it neither more nor less reassuring to have him there instead of at his back. He kept seeing him at the corner of his eye, and he fought hard not to keep turning his head to stare.

Hakkai looked worse closer up than he had at a distance. In the occasional brilliant slashes of moonlight that came in through the trees, Gojyo caught hints of bruises at Hakkai's throat. Otherwise his skin was dead white and rough-looking: it looked dried out, as if the man had suffered through some sort of fever and was only just able to make his way out of bed now, for all that he navigated the road with ease and grace. His eyes burned brightly in the white expanse of his face.

"You don't look so good," said Gojyo. "You're not…contagious, are you?"

"I've been better," said Hakkai. "No need to worry. I'm as healthy as ever."

He seemed to think Gojyo's concern was funny.

"If this is your idea of healthy, I'd hate to see you sick," said Gojyo, at length.

Hakkai didn't reply.

After a few minutes' silence, Gojyo slowed down. Up ahead on the right, was the turn-off to his house, a path mostly hidden by the sprawling branches of an oak tree. He nudged Hakkai. Yeesh. Even the man's sides were chilly. Gojyo supposed maybe the night was colder than he'd realized, fortified as he was from his poker-and-beer evening. Hakkai's shirt didn't look very thick, either. And then Gojyo noticed he was, in fact, noticing Hakkai's body beneath the shirt and not the shirt itself. He cleared his throat and looked away.

"See that oak?" he said. "We're going underneath this side of it. It's got a lot of branches that are lower than they look. Try to duck."

"All right," said Hakkai.

The noise he made--leaves rustling, twigs snapping, inhaling and exhaling--seemed unusually loud to Gojyo. He shook his head. There was no explaining his jumpiness today. It was just that the night was so dark, and the woods so quiet, and then this stranger had appeared where Gojyo hadn't expected to see anyone. It was fine. Everything was fine. Hakkai didn't seem like the axe-murdering kind, and even if it was dark, Gojyo knew the way home like the back of his hand. His imagination was just overreacting, that was all. He told himself this, over and over, all the way down the path.

It wasn't until they came into the clearing around Gojyo's house that he realized that Hakkai hadn't made a single sound. No twigs had snapped beneath his feet, no leaves rustled in his wake. And he hadn't made noise on the main road either, and that was covered with gravel. Gojyo listened hard, but couldn't make out the sound of Hakkai's breathing. The hairs on the back of Gojyo's neck rose. It was suddenly imperative that Gojyo not look anywhere but straight ahead.

"So," said Gojyo. "This is me. Anyway, it's been nice to meet you and all, but…"

"Three days have I lain in the grave," said Hakkai.

The blood froze in Gojyo's veins. He turned on one foot and faced Hakkai. If it was a joke, Gojyo wasn't laughing. Neither was Hakkai. His face was somber.

"You what?" said Gojyo.

"Well, to be more precise, I was dumped in a salt-marsh and left for dead," said Hakkai. "You seem surprised."

"Surprised isn't the word for it," said Gojyo.

More like freaked out. His instincts told him this man was absolutely crazy, maybe even dangerous. Who said crap like that, other than the nut jobs? And yet there was something in Hakkai's eyes or his demeanor that made Gojyo want to know more. There was something attractive about him, something Gojyo couldn't quite put his finger on…He felt a sudden urge for a cigarette to calm his nerves. A quick search of his pockets turned up an empty pack.

Gojyo sighed. He wandered over to the porch and felt around under the edge of the roof, stretching and twisting into an uncomfortable position in the process. His spine popped. Triumphant, Gojyo pulled out a small tin box out of the rafters. It was his emergencies-only spare pack and it was probably stale, but it was better than nothing. He got a cigarette out and replaced the box.

"So," said Gojyo. "Um. You wanna come in and clean up?"

It seemed the polite thing to say, and Gojyo wondered when, exactly, he'd started to care about whether he was polite or not. He lit his cigarette and leaned against the porch railing.

"That's very kind of you," said Hakkai. "Thank you. But are you sure? I wouldn't want to inconvenience you and, after all, we've only just met."

"No trouble," said Gojyo.

He turned the doorknob and frowned. It was stuck. He twisted the doorknob again, violently, and kicked the wood just to the right of the jamb. The door creaked as it swung open. Gojyo felt Hakkai's eyes drilling into him and turned around to face the man. Sure enough, Hakkai was looking at him without blinking. The polite smile on his face didn't reach his eyes. Gojyo stubbed his cigarette out and pocketed the butt for later.

"What?" Gojyo said. "You coming or not?"

"Of course," said Hakkai. "Again, thank you."

Gojyo stepped over the threshold and jiggled the light switch. Nothing. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at Hakkai.

"Hold on," said Gojyo. "Power's out."

Hakkai raised an eyebrow at him. Gojyo was chagrinned.

"I was going to pay the bill tomorrow," he said. "Rat bastards cut me off early, I guess. I know I had 'til the end of the week."

At least, he thought it was until the end of the week. He stumbled his way through the living room to the kitchen, where he was pretty sure there might be some candles or a lantern or something. He switched on the gas on one of the stove burners and lit it with his lighter. The hiss and whoomph as the gas caught brought a little light to the room, enough to search by.

Gojyo rooted through the cupboard under the sink. He found rat poison, mouse traps, and an open strip of flypaper. The flypaper adhered itself to his forearm. Gojyo sighed. At least there weren't a bunch of dead flies on it.  
He peeled the sticky mess off gingerly with one hand and tossed it in the general direction of the kitchen trash.

Then it came to Gojyo that he had flashlights in the coat closet, and he felt like a moron. He stumbled his way back across the living room and got a flashlight out. He shook it and pressed the button. A dull yellow beam lit up a few feet in front of him. It was enough to see by, at least.

"All right," said Gojyo. "Finally."

"I presume it's safe to enter now," said Hakkai.

He stepped inside the living room, into the area Gojyo's dying flashlight illuminated. The expression on his face was carefully neutral as he looked around the room. Gojyo pressed the flashlight into his hand and fished out another from the closet. The light from this one was even weaker, but he figured two lights were better than one. He cleared his throat again.

He swept his flashlight around the room.

"So, uh," said Gojyo. "This is the living room. And that's the bathroom, and the kitchen's over there."

Looking at things like this, he wished faintly that his stuff--what little he had--wasn't quite so shitty, so old and brokedown and damaged. There wasn't even anything worth taking, as far as he could tell, so if Hakkai were a thief, he was out of luck. Gojyo hesitated and flashed over the last door on the left.

"Bedroom," he said. "This place isn't much but at least it's a roof, right?"

He pitched the contents of his pockets onto the coffee table and gestured for Hakkai to follow him into the kitchen. Gojyo turned off the stove burner, its wavering light nonexistent in the presence of the flashlights. He sat down at the kitchen table, and Hakkai followed suit, sitting on the very edge of the very rickety chair.

"Relax," said Gojyo. "It's not going to break under you."

Hakkai looked around the kitchen.

"I don't suppose you have any tea?" said Hakkai.

Gojyo shrugged.

"Have a look if you like," he said. "Maybe there's some Banri left behind. I don't know."

"Banri?" said Hakkai.

"Former roommate," said Gojyo. "Emphasis on former. Skipped out on the rent one too many times."

"But you live alone now?" said Hakkai.

"Ain't it obvious?" said Gojyo.

The beam of his flashlight picked out overflowing ashtrays, mildewed laundry here and there on the floor, beer cans on every available surface, some tipped over sideways.

"If you recycled those, you might regain some of your living space," said Hakkai.

"Ah. Well. I've been meaning to do that," said Gojyo. "Never got around to it."

"I see," said Hakkai.

Gojyo was half-insulted by this mild reply. He was a bachelor to the bone and took a certain perverse pride in his inability to keep house.

"But hey, the couch is clean," said Gojyo. "If you've got nowhere else to go."

Hakkai looked at him.

"Clean-ish," said Gojyo.

And damn it, it was clean. No one had puked or fucked or bled on it for longer than he could rightly remember. A few cigarette ashes brushed off, maybe a sheet thrown over it and it'd be fine. And fuck Hakkai if that wasn't good enough.

It wasn't like Gojyo'd asked this weirdo to follow him home and invite himself in…except he kind of had. Now he felt responsible for the guy, like he needed looking after or something. He felt a headache coming on that had nothing to do with his evening at the bar.

"Anyway, uh, you remember where the bathroom is?" said Gojyo.

Hakkai nodded.

"There should be an extra towel, if you want to shower or anything," said Gojyo. "Feel free to take the flashlight with you."

Hakkai stood. He left the room and, after a minute or two, Gojyo heard the pipes rattle to life. Gojyo sighed. He heaved himself up out of his seat and went to the bedroom to try and find a spare sheet to put over the couch.

He put the flashlight on the bureau and dug around beneath his bed. There had to be sheets under there somewhere. He vaguely recalled tossing the clean laundry under there one time, and, ever since then, he'd been unable to find some of his favorite shirts and had been reduced to a single sheet on the bed. Not that that mattered much, really: he didn't spend a lot of time in his own bed.

Gojyo laughed at himself. If any of his dates could see this, they'd laugh themselves sick. All this effort for someone he didn't know, and a man at that. Finally, Gojyo's hand closed on something that could very well be a sheet. He dragged it out from underneath the bed just as a knock came at his door. It was Hakkai, fresh from the shower. Gojyo couldn't stop looking at him.

With just a towel around his waist, it was evident how pale Hakkai really was. He was practically the color of the towel--a seriously white white-- and Gojyo had never known living people could get that color. He'd seen a few people like that before, but they'd all been dead. Corpses.

Gojyo was half-mesmerized watching Hakkai's chest as he breathed. The only real color on his body was a livid, scabbed-over wound that clawed its way across his abdomen.

"Geez, you weren't kidding, were you?" said Gojyo.

Hakkai looked down at himself. He seemed surprised.

"Ah. That," he said. "No. I really was left for dead."

Gojyo fingered the scars on his own cheek, thoughtful.

"But you didn't die," said Gojyo. "You must really be lucky."

"Hmm," said Hakkai. "I would have been luckier had this not happened in the first place. As it is, I doubt I will ever forget the color of my intestines."

He sighed, and his eyes then caught Gojyo's. Again, Gojyo was struck by how brilliantly green they were.

"I'll take that sheet out to the living room," said Hakkai. "Thank you."

Gojyo handed it over. Hakkai's fingers touched his. Even though Hakkai had just been in the shower, his flesh was cold. Gojyo couldn't figure it out. The guy's hair was steaming, literally steaming hot, but his hands were icy cold and bluish. It occurred to Gojyo that maybe Hakkai was hypothermic. He'd seen a few people who'd had it before, who'd stayed out too long when it was too cold, and it wasn't pretty.

"Are you sure you're okay?" said Gojyo.

"As well as might be expected," said Hakkai. "It will certainly help to be out of the elements for the night."

Hakkai walked quietly out of the room. Gojyo shut the door behind him and let his thoughts spin in circles. Hakkai seemed nice. Hakkai also seemed dangerous. Someone had tried to kill him. Hakkai might try to kill Gojyo because he was crazy. Gojyo had taken this man in, and it indicated a certain level of trust, didn't it? Except he didn't trust him, not completely, and Gojyo found himself shoving his dresser in front of the bedroom door, just in case Hakkai tried something.

He laid down to sleep and forced himself not to listen for sounds of life from the living room. The walls were thin enough that he could hear Hakkai moving around in there. Gojyo was tired. His eyelids were heavy and kept shutting themselves when he wasn't paying attention. At some point, the flashlight died, and he was alone in the dark. Gojyo didn't hold out long against sleep after that.

 

When Gojyo woke in the morning, the first thing he noticed was that his bureau was across the door and therefore between him and the bathroom. He desperately needed to piss and he needed to brush his teeth because it tasted like something had died in his mouth. He wanted a cigarette, too, but that could come after.

Gojyo muscled the furniture out of the way and opened his bedroom door. He stared at the living room a long time before stepping out into it. He couldn't believe his eyes. It was clean. The windows sparkled, the floors were immaculate, and the air didn't smell like beer and cigarettes anymore. He poked his head into the bathroom, and it was clean in there, too. Gojyo checked the kitchen. The dishes were washed and the overflowing trash had been emptied. There was no sign of Hakkai.

Coming back around to his bedroom, Gojyo had another surprise. There were great gouges in the door there, long bloody furrows. He inspected the damage closely. It looked like something had tried to claw its way into his room, though who or what he couldn't tell. He spent a few minutes laying his hands all over the door, moving from side to side. Whatever it had been, it had almost gotten through the door. Gojyo tapped sharply on part of the damage, and his finger went through the door completely. The wood raked him when he tried to get free of it and he bled freely. It throbbed hellishly as blood splattered to the floor.

"Shit," said Gojyo. "Better see how bad it is."

He went to the bathroom and cranked the hot water faucet. He held his finger under the water a long time, wincing from the heat. Steam began to fill the room. He glanced up at the mirror and froze, his finger forgotten. There was writing on his mirror.

"I apologize for your door," it read. "I hope you will forgive me. I could not control myself fully. Though my efforts to clean your home were somewhat lacking, I hope you will find it to be some sort of restitution for the trouble I've caused. Thank you for your kindness to a stranger."

Though it was unsigned, it was obviously from his guest.

Gojyo sat on the toilet for a long time afterward, not comprehending. At length, he bandaged his finger and wiped the mirror down. It was all too strange for him. It was just too strange. He'd replace the door. He'd replace the door and go on living his life just like nothing had ever happened, and that would be that.

Or so Gojyo hoped.


End file.
